pipe dreams
by cassino
Summary: she dreams of him. every night, she sees him for what he used to be and holly wonders when she fell in love with the one person she swore to hate :: fem!harry x voldemort, canon-ish


**a/n:** this was written very quickly, but i hope you enjoy reading it, elaine! I've never written anything like this so idk how it turned out sksksksss. (also ik 'holly' is the most basic fem!harry name i could've picked but honestly, i didn't have the strength to search for creative names so sPARE me)

 **prompts:** fem!harry x voldemort,  
pre-round challenge—the houses competition, gift fic for Sonya-Heather-DeVito

 **disclaimer:** don't own harry potter. move on.

* * *

 _ **pipe dreams**_

 _words: 1529_

* * *

His eyes glitter curiously as he studies her drawn wand and rigid posture. Raising an eyebrow, he says, "I don't believe I've ever seen you around, Miss…?"

Holly sets her jaw and refuses to tell him who she is, even if this _is_ a horrific nightmare. She imagines his pale features mutate into the horror he is now and she feels vaguely ill at the notion. His expression of vague curiosity is gone, replaced by concern. _Concern._ For _her._ She almost laughs. Is it possible to kill someone in a dream? Would they die? She wishes he would. It'd save her a lifetime of trouble.

"Are you alright?" He asks, touching her shoulder. His hand is warm. She recoils from the touch.

" _No."_ She grits her teeth. "Apparently, the world considers my life a big _joke._ "

He hums and she gets the vague feeling he's amused. Go figure. She's amused the bloody Dark Lord. Maybe he won't want to murder her anymore.

"Do I want to murder you in your time?" He asks in a cool voice and she jumps. He is leaning against the wall and she tries to ignore how striking he looks, even in partial darkness. She raises her eyebrows because she doesn't know how the _fuck_ he can get into her mind even in a fucking dream. "Legilimency. Surely, you know what that means."

She bristles at his condescending tone, instantly transported back to Snape's dingy office. "Yes, I do."

But he isn't listening, because he is staring at her with a somewhat glazed expression. His eyes flash red and she tightens her hold on her wand. " _Voldemort,"_ he hisses. "Voldemort, is that what they call me? Will I truly be the deathless one?"

"No, not really. I defeated you as a baby," Holly shrugs and smirks with satisfaction as he stiffens up.

But he relaxes in the next instant. "That's quite convenient for me. Perhaps it's Fate's way of informing me that I have to get you out of my way right _now_."

He raises his wand and she tries to do the same, but she's too late because the sickly green light hits her and she's falling, falling, falling into the abyss of darkness until she feels the rough linen of her pillow under her sweat-stained skin, her heart thudding loudly as she ponders when _exactly_ her life went to hell.

 **Ω**

The library is exactly as it used to be, except the chairs are much more comfortable than what they were—they _will be_ in her time. She absentmindedly flips through a book about advanced Transfiguration, tapping her foot with anticipation. She _knows_ he'll be here soon. There's no other reason she'll dream up the library otherwise.

"I have half a mind to kill you right now. You turn up at the most inconvenient moments."

Holly laughs a little. "Please, you don't stand a chance against me. You never did—I defeated you before I could even speak coherently."

"You are like an annoying pest, you know that? No wonder Lord Voldemort wanted to kill you." A pale hand snatches the book out of her hands and she glares up at him.

"It's so annoying, the way you refer to yourself in third person. Or perhaps you think of him as a different person. Why, don't you want to be associated with the darkest wizard of all time just yet?" Holly asks, half-serious, half-taunting. She wonders how different this boy is from Voldemort and finds herself intrigued.

He clenches his fists and sits down in front of her. "Was… was it really that bad? Was what I caused so horrific?"

She latches onto the doubt in his voice like a leech. Voldemort she cannot save. But this boy in front of her, so doubtful of himself, might not be beyond redemption.

She wonders if she can change history.

Holly is excited by the thought.

"You killed off half the wizarding population. People are afraid to say your name. They _loathe_ you, Voldemort." She pushed her bangs out of the way and shows him her scar. "You. But my mother's protection was too strong to break and the curse rebounded, leaving me with a scar… I'm hailed as the saviour of the Wizarding World—not that it did much good since you fucking came back to life," she says, a bit bitterly.

"My name is Tom Riddle," he says in a low whisper.

"What?"

"My name is _Tom Riddle._ Not Voldemort. Not yet."

Holly smiles. "Okay, Tom Riddle it is."

 **Ω**

Days blend into weeks and a couple of dreams morph into a neverending saga of Holly falling into the '40s and talking to Tom Riddle. She feels like a lunatic when she thinks about the whole situation, but funnily enough, Riddle is what keeps her sane in the dreary confines of the tent. Hermione notices her change in demeanour but does not comment. Both of them have their own problems to deal with and Holly is not sure if she'll confide in her friend even if she asks.

She feels herself falling as soon as her head hits the pillow and when she opens her eyes again, she is standing in the dungeons—the Potions classroom, where Tom is brewing something that looks suspiciously like the Draught of Living Death.

"Planning on putting someone in a very deep sleep, are you?"

Tom doesn't even flinch as he turns to face her. "Perhaps," he says flatly. Holly doesn't question him. It doesn't matter anyway.

"We destroyed another Horcrux today," she says, cursing herself for blurting it out. It doesn't matter anyway. Riddle doesn't recollect the details of their conversation clearly once she wakes up from the dream. The memories return if he finds her again. Holly wonders what kind of magic might draw her back in time in such an odd way.

"Oh? Which one was it?" Riddle asks casually, but she can detect the stiffness behind his voice.

"Slytherin's locket. You were quite nasty to me and Ron, you know," Holly says, ignoring the pang of hurt in her chest.

"Oh. I'm sorry if it hurt you," Tom says quietly, reading her mind perfectly. She grits her teeth and curses herself for not paying more attention to Snape during her disastrous Occlumency lessons.

He comes to stand behind her and she shivers. "I just… I'm supposed to kill you, Tom. Well, not _you,_ but… you get what I'm saying. How am I going to kill you after _this,_ after… everything? I… I just don't _know_ anymore. I need to stop dreaming about you. I have to go, Tom. I-I _can't,_ " she chokes, wiping away the tears on her cheeks.

She hates it—all of it, the fact that she's falling in love with her parents' murderer, that fate is cruel enough to draw her back in time just to watch her shatter to pieces, the odd way his eyes glitter, even in the dark. But most of all, she hates how her heart thunders as leans down, their noses brushing and his breath ghosting against her lips as he speaks. "But I don't want you to leave," he whispers and the world starts to spin.

She leans in before she can regret it, and his lips are warm, unyielding and blissful. She pulls back to look in his eyes, and all she can say is _goodbye_ as his handsome features fade from view, his jaw slack with shock and regret.

 **Ω**

 _He looks so different, now,_ she muses as they face each other, wands drawn as the whole world waits with bated breath for the Dark Lord's defeat. The sun is rising and he stands in sharp contrast to its warm light, his smile cold and grotesque. Her mind flashes back to a time when he was as handsome as he is terrifying now and her heart breaks because she knows she might be killing Voldemort, but he'll take the only remaining piece of Tom Riddle with him.

"There's nowhere to run, Tom," she says, her quiet voice carrying across the hall. Tears rise in her eyes, unbidden and she blinks. "All your Horcruxes are gone, and I am the only one in your way. And you know—you've always known that you never stood a chance against me."

A flash of recognition in his scarlet eyes and his features clench with shock. Holly smiles a little sadly as she readies herself for his curse. She doesn't have to wait long. He almost screeches as he sends the green jet of light her way and she counters it with her ever-faithful _Expelliarmus_ and suddenly, it's all over.

Because the Elder Wand never goes against its master and _she_ is the true master. The curse rebounds and Voldemort is falling, falling, falling into death as she fell into her dreams just a few days ago. Just for a moment, she sees Tom Riddle instead of Voldemort, his face frozen in death and her breath hitches with a sob.

"I'm so sorry, Tom."

And then the crowd surges with jubilance and Holly is swept up with the rejoicing spectators and her dreams are blown away with the screams of victory.


End file.
